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It was high summer in the mountain peaks, the sun blazing down hot and bright in a blue cloudless sky. She came upon him out in the hills beyond her home range, shot and looking dead in the open country. There was no horse, and no sign of life, so the girl was curious. The mare shied a little and started to prance away but the teen steadied her, gentle hands on the appaloosa's mane. Sliding from the horse's bare back she cautiously moved closer for a better look.

He was a grown man, tall, with dark black hair and sandy colored skin. Three crimson stains patched his vest, and he lay face up on the ground. A jolt of pained compassion went through her, a faint memory of red flowers rising in her mind.

Over the years, she had come to recognize the sight of bullet holes. Four times she had come across the bodies of men, left to the scavengers, holes just like these in their bodies. Once, she had seen a posse of men catch up with a man running away. The resulting shootout had riddled his body full of bullets. Though the violence scared her, long years alone made her inquisitive.

Creeping to the fallen man she gingerly knelt at his side. Gentle hands touched his chest, feeling a heartbeat at the same moment his eyes briefly fluttered open. They were a deep chocolate brown but faintly out of focus. Gazing at each other, she almost held her breath.

"You a dream?"

"No, mister."

"I'm dyin' girl...would love some water..." his voice was thick, rough from dehydration. Before she could move his eyes rolled back and he passed out.

Knowing he was still alive made her take pity on him. All the years alone had given her a craving for human companionship, especially since she'd grew older. Townsfolk worried her, but out here, where she felt safe, her curious nature stuffed her more cautious one into the background. The man had chiseled good looks that made her young heart skip a beat. A long thin nose, wide chin, thick arched brows and smooth lips, she couldn't stop staring.

Reaching a single finger out, she traced it over his cheek, then down to his jaw, feeling the scratch of stubble against her sensitive pads. His mouth moved, throat working desperately, and that decided it. Using the knife she found on him, she set about making a makeshift travois. Cutting fallen branches to the right size, strips torn from her skirt tied them together. The work went fairly easily, as she'd done this once before.

It was not, however, a human she carried back to the valley on that long ago day. The memory made her smile faintly as she brushed long blonde hair from her face. What would this man say if she told him the story? Until now, she hadn't told anyone.

Finished, she managed to roll the wounded man onto the travois and headed the mare toward home. A rainstorm was coming, the air alive with electricity, and the smell of the earth strong in her nostrils. She hated the rain. It made her heart pound, blood pulsing through her temples until her entire skull ached.

The sky was dark when she finally got back to the small cottage nestled among the high mountain peaks. Untying the travois from the leopard appaloosa, the girl set her loose with a soft kiss on the mare's nose.

"Thank you."

Uncommonly strong, living alone forced her to develop muscles most of the cultured feminine variety did not have need of. Pulling the makeshift pallet into the cottage she settled it near the fireplace. It didn't take long to stir the embers into flames, and she added a few logs for fuel. A large, sealed clay jar sat in the kitchen, holding ten gallons of cool, clean water. Ladling a little out she brought it to his lips, trickling the smallest amount into his mouth. He swallowed automatically so she gave him a little more.

After a little while his eyes fluttered open again, settling on her face. They were confused and slightly wary, but she smiled at him. So far, her only human interaction in years had been with the fictional characters in her books and the rare person at Fry's general store. The people she had seen outside her home range had been at a distance, and she'd made no attempt to get closer.

In silence, the wounded man looked slowly around the room, seeing the bare walls, the sturdy table and blazing fire. Then he returned his gaze to the lovely teenager who sat at his side. He smiled a little, gratefully swallowing more water when she offered it.

"Who are you?" Despite the waspish tone resulting from dehydration, his voice was rich and soft.

"I am not your enemy." Her reply was equally soft, but already her voice was becoming throaty and vibrant.

"What makes you think I got enemies?" He tried a smile and was rewarded by a dazzling response from the girl. If it wasn't for the pain, he'd be convinced he was in heaven.

"I don't think a man's friends shoot him and leave him for dead."

"You got a point, girl," he chuckled, but the action caused him to cough violently, grimacing with pain. He lay back suddenly exhausted. "You know how to patch wounds?"

She smiled sadly and shook her head no.

"Well, if you don't want me dyin' on your floor, you'll need to learn mighty quick. You know the sage plant? The plumajillo?"

Another slight shake of her head answered him.

"Listen, get out there and look around. The sage will be tall and wide, with lavender flowers. It should be bloomin' about now. The leaves are like so," he held his fingers in an oblong shape "Leaves are grey-green, wrinkled on the top side, and nearly white on the underside.

"Get a couple large handfuls of them but take care not to bruise 'em. Then go on the look for plumajillo, it's a tall plant long stem, with a big puff of white flowers bunched around the center, but they're mighty soft, feathery like. Grab a couple of those and bring 'em back here, quick as you can..."

The talk was wearing him out and he lay back, eyes closed, his breathing ragged and waspy. The girl waited for one moment, then took to the outdoors at a run. Though it began to rain, it took her keen eye no time at all to find the plants he'd described. Pulling large handfuls of them, he wrapped them in her apron. When she returned to the cottage, he was barely conscious enough to tell her how to prepare them. Keeping him talking, it didn't take long to have the remedies made up, applying them with gentle hands.

This process was repeated over the coming days. He also explained to her how to remove slugs from live flesh with tweezers and a sharp knife. She was pale, trembling, and he cried out, cursing uncontrollably as she worked. Finally, to both their relief, three slugs lay bloody on the small dish she had set by. Warm water was right there, so she again bathed the wounds and applied more poultices from the herbs, wrapping him gently as she could.

Staying by her new companions' side, she soothed his fever best she knew how, feeding him broth and coffee when he was awake. He slept for the better part of a week, moving very little and saying even less. It was frightening to see him more dead than alive. The thought saddened her. It was nice to not be alone.

~~~

"You never told me your name, girl."

Long days later, and he was finally sitting up, looking and feeling stronger every day. His caregiver smiled over at him, her large gray eyes innocent and trusting.

"I don't have one, mister."

"You serious? What'd your folks call you?"

"Don't remember, it's just me up here. My folks are gone." It was as close as she could come to the truth, for she could not really remember what happened to them.

"Hmm," his gaze turned calculating. "Maybe I should give you a name then."

"Really?" Sudden interest sparkled in her eyes. "What would you call me?"

Sitting back, he studied her for a moment, making her blush under his lingering gaze. Though he guessed she was young, her body was already forming the curves that promised a full figure as a grown woman. With tanned skin, her long, blondish white hair was a stunning contrast. Her deep gray eyes would someday send shivers down the spine of any man she flashed them at. Right now, they were gazing at him with full trust and goodness.

"Anna. What do you think of that?"

"Anna...?" Her memory suddenly flashed a bronzed face with raven colored hair in her mind's eye. Large dark eyes full of anger and sadness. It made her unaccountably sad.

"You don't like it." His voice was almost disappointed.

"No! I do!" Not wanting him to think badly of her, she pushed those thoughts aside. "It just, wasn't a name I thought you'd pick, that's all."

They smiled at each other.

"Alright, Anna. Name's Roy. Real nice to meet you."

"Roy. I'm very glad to meet you too."

Going back to a lonely existence was unbearable, and he seemed to like being with her. She let him stay.

~~~

"Load it like I showed you, there you go, now take aim at that fir tree branch. See that cone there on the right? Try and shoot it off."

They were in a small meadow up above the cottage where Roy was teaching her to shoot his rifle. He stood behind her, helping press it tightly to her shoulder, showing her how to load it and aim along the sights. They had been practicing for a week now and every day the girl he called Anna was improving. The rifle barked in her hands the report echoing among the trees. The targeted cone snapped off the limb to fly through the sky for several yards before tumbling to the ground.

"Good girl!"

Warming at his praise turned her cheeks pink. Ever since he'd healed enough to be on his feet, she had found his tall stature and striking good looks attractive to her young eyes. Wanting his company, she secretly hoped he would choose to stay. Excuses to be near him were plentiful. The time had flown, summer months blowing past as his presence banished the loneliness that had hung over her like a storm cloud.

"You're a fine shot Anna, good as most men." His hand rested lightly on her shoulder. "You'd be a spitfire in any town."

"Thank you." Smiling up into his brown eyes, she saw something in them shift. He paused for a long time, just looking down at her. Then his hand dropped.

"You best get back to the house. I'll be along." Stepping back, he turned away.

Disappointment flooded through her, but she did as she was told, almost fleeing back toward the cottage. Thus she missed the lingering gaze that followed her, and the smile that crossed his lips. Shaking his head slightly Roy sighed. Anna was too young to know her feelings were as apparent as the nose on her face. He had no intention of letting her down, but first things first.

Over time, he began to suspect where he was. An orphan girl out here alone, somehow able to buy whatever she needed, but without a trace of money? Pig-farming was one thing, but he rightly guessed she wasn't a working girl. That meant her money came from somewhere else.

Rumors were plentiful about a vast gold depository buried in the mountain range up here. He'd seen a double eagle coin on the kitchen table one day and when he looked carefully at it, Roy discovered it was solid gold. That meant one thing to him. Anna knew where the lost Wildcat treasure was.

Being a rich man with a pretty girl like her hanging about appealed to him. Still, he was in no hurry, she was making him as welcome as he could be. A pleasure to be around, her bright inquisitive mind was sharp and insightful. She often made him laugh, which was rare. Plus, once he told her something, she never forgot it. It didn't matter if he was talking about roping, riding, shooting, tracking, poultice making, or the way he like his eggs.

A man would be plum loco to walk away from that.

Slowly making his way to the cottage, the savory smell of meat and fresh bread was wafting in the air. Anna was a superb cook, and he found himself thinking her more a woman than a child. Years on the planet didn't matter to him as much as experience and capability did. When he came in the door and took of his hat, she flashed a brilliant smile at him, watching as he hung the weathered piece over the back of his chair.

"I hope you are hungry," she offered softly. "I'm making venison steaks, baked potatoes, sweet carrots, fresh biscuits with gravy, and there are doughnuts for dessert."

"Almighty gal, you'll make a man happy someday," he smiled.

"I hope so," she smiled back, hope fresh in her eyes.

"I was thinkin' tomorrow I'd take you out into the peaks and get you some trackin' experience. Seems like a young woman alone ought to know a thing or two about what goes on around her."

"I would like that." Wiping her hands on her apron, she brought him a full pot of fresh coffee. He waited as she poured his cup then took a long swallow. It was good.

"What's the occasion?" Roy asked. He could smell the fresh doughnuts from the oven.

"It's my birthday this week. I'm to turn sixteen." Her voice was sultry without meaning to be, a sign of her interest, but also inexperience.

Though she could not recall much, certain knowledge about some things in her life filled Anna. As certain as the sun rising each day, the girl knew she was about to turn sixteen, just as she knew it had been almost eight years since she had been left on her own. Now, blossoming into womanhood, she was glad she was no longer alone.

"Well then, we'll make it a week to remember," Roy grinned. Her smile was dazzling. The pot just kept getting sweeter.